I welcome spring with the first tick-ticking of the snowmelt, the first scent of earth exhaling, the first dig in the garden, but then, around late April, start to regret that unrestrained welcome.
You see, I'm a tidy person, an organized person. I don't mind mess, but I really, really want to be able to clean it up in an hour or two, a day at the most. But the spring melt? The mess of fallen branches, last season's leaves which went un-raked before the first snow, the bittersweet vine that *still* insists on choking the fence, the lawn that has yet to be replaced by garden, the fall debris that, for whatever reason, escaped my notice six months ago--all of that lies in wait under stubborn, unmelted winter.
And I know, I *know,* that I'll have to clean it up. It's just who I am, and sometimes just knowing that has me wishing for one more big snowfall.
But that's the thing right? Another snow just pushes back the inevitable. Ignorance of what lies beneath is not cleanliness, and voluntary blindness is no excuse for inaction.